


Always, for my Sins

by Sparklespirit



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drunken Confessions, I will start with the, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other, abuse of parentheses, because that is a given, if that bothers you, mention of houseplant abuse, mention of the 14th century, one (1) swear, theological speculation, wait two swears oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 09:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparklespirit/pseuds/Sparklespirit
Summary: After the end, settling is harder than Aziraphale thought.Inspired bythis post





	Always, for my Sins

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the same post as [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091460) but it was written before this fic existed, so I'm not putting it down as "inspired by."
> 
> You should still check out the fic though, it's very good

Aziraphale knew, in the way he knew that the sky was blue and water was wet, that God and Heaven and Hell existed, and that reincarnation didn’t. 

(He was an angel, after all.)

But sometimes, he thought otherwise. He wondered if he had done it all before, if there was another Heaven, another Hell, another life. 

He wondered what he’d done to deserve this. Whatever it was, it must have been something _ big. _Somewhere on the scale of premature Armageddon. 

An eternity of torture. Oh sure, he was immortal and damn near all-powerful, and he was in love. Sure, he didn’t have to worry about his love dying on him or anything foolish like that, no. But he had absolutely no chance with them. 

Because, for his sins, he was in love with his best friend. 

Who was a demon. 

Joy. 

They had been through it all together. 

(Well, except the horrific boredom of the 14th century. But really, that was nothing compared to the other 6,000-odd years of the Arrangement.)

(Not the Arrangement he would have liked, but still a passingly cordial one.)

He shared the work of blessings, and did the requisite temptations for Crowley when he was in the area, and they met for tea occasionally. They had to diffuse the Apocalypse once, but it was all right in the end, he supposed. 

(It was only one time, anyway.)

It was enough, for now. 

But forever? 

* * *

This night, the air feels different, like something important is about to happen. 

(Of course, this could also be because between the two of them, he and Crowley had drunk enough alcohol to drown a respectably-sized herd of elephants.)

(But it was probably foreboding.) 

Between slightly hysterical giggles he gasped out, “Do you ever have any regrets?”

Crowley stares back at him dully. 

“Nahhh, not really. Nothing I could change, anyway.”

Aziraphale thought that, for a moment, he looked sad, even through the haze of alcohol. 

“Do you?”

And, because his brain-mouth filter had eroded quite significantly with steeping in a nice but rather surprised cabernet sauvignon, the words slipped out before he could realize that this was possibly the worst idea he’d ever had. 

(And that was saying quite a bit.)

“Loving you. Becaush you can’t love me back. Demon and all,” he slurred, waving his hand vaguely. 

When he looked back, Crowley’s face looked like he’d just been flattened by an eighteen-wheeler. And _ clear _. 

Dammit. 

Aziraphale sobered up, purging the alcohol from his bloodstream somewhat reluctantly. 

(If he was going to lose his only real friend, he needed to be sober, even though it might not hurt as much drunk.)

(It would hurt more later, if he was drunk, and his last memory of Crowley was tainted.) 

Crowley gaped at him like a stunned goldfish. He straightened up, long legs unfolding as he shot upwards.

“You stupid, _ stupid _ angel!” He gestured wildly, voice rising, as Aziraphale sagged. 

“You can bloody _ feel love _ ! I am a bloody _ Technicolor symphony _of in-love-with-you! Why did you never say anything?”

Well, this was unexpected. 

“What?! No. That’s just the background love static. Earth has always felt this way around you!”

Crowley sat down, staring Aziraphale right in the eyes. 

“Yes,” he said, slowly and fiercely, “Yes, it has.”

* * *

Now, things are different. 

Soft smiles over a shared table, books and luxuriant (terrified) houseplants strewn through a shared home. Blessings and temptations done together, with lunch and feeding the ducks at the park. 

But sometimes, Aziraphale still wonders. 

If there was another him, another life, another Heaven and Hell. And, late at night, he thanks his other self. Whatever he’d done, it must have been _ big. _  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos feed my soul


End file.
